Trouble
by roundabout wickedness
Summary: SSHG, AU, slightly OOC. A story about potions, tension, and the inevitable draw of two intelligent people to each other.
1. Moony in the Entrance Hall

**Yeah, so I know I said Flair for Trouble was dead - I'm leaving up the original, but I was rereading and realized how...undeveloped it was. I was frightened for my ability, and so...here is the editted, revised, and carefully written first chapter. Trouble will be nothing like FFT - FFT was simply for kicks and giggles, and although this will contain some humor, I plan on it being much more serious. Hope you enjoy. By the way, I do not own Harry Potter. If I owned Harry Potter, page 394 would never have occurred.**

When Severus Snape didn't show up at the Staff Table at the start of term feast, nobody noticed. In fact, not even the teachers seemed to notice. It was sad, really, that his presence wasn't missed. If somebody had noticed, they had most likely not cared, and if they had cared, it was because he was not there to glare in a creepy manner at the unfortunate first years Gryffindors that would have to deal with him first thing in the morning. For that, they were grateful. Chatter seemed to go on for hours after the Sorting and Dumbledore's few first words, telling the students a few rules and reminding them that the Forbidden Forest was off limits. Hermione knew the reason behind Remus Lupin's absence from what she considered the high table. It was her seventh year, and she had known him long enough to know a few things about him that Harry and Ron overlooked. Moreover, she was more observant to pay attention to the state of the moon, which appeared quite full on the enchanted ceiling. Even though the rest of the school knew that he was a werewolf, no one seemed to care, except for a select few Slytherins, the snarky dungeon git (who was alarmed at anything that Remus Lupin did), and Remus Lupin himself.

She was musing over her luck at becoming Head Girl when she overheard snatches of conversation from the direction of Ron. "Where do you reckon Lupin is?" he was asking Harry, who just shrugged.

Scowling, she pointed her finger up at the moon and scorned them, "Honestly, you two have the brains of a peach." Shaking her head as a look of apprehension dawned on the two boys faces; she sent another glance up at the staff table. "Wonder where Snape is," she commented off-hand. It wasn't like him to skip the first dinner; she knew from experience that he enjoyed glaring at the first years and scaring them out of their skins. "He's usually shown his face by now." This comment was rather blatantly ignored by Ron and Harry, who seemed to have commenced into some sort of a fight: they were shoveling food into their mouths faster than the intelligent witch would have though possible. _Gross_, she thought to herself before contemplating the NEWTs that they would have to take at the end of the year; thankfully for her friends, she had actually dropped History of Magic and Muggle Studies after her OWLs, giving her two free blocks in which she could draw up study schedules. They needed it.

Apparently, she must have had quite a look on her face because Harry and Ron were looking at her with a sense of dread etched into their features. "Hermione, tell me you're not already fretting over NEWTs," Harry stated rather bluntly, knowing that she would nod her head with impeccable timing, get up, and leave the Great Hall with an air of importance.

"Please…please say you're not going to force us to study with you," Ron continued with his concern for his mental well-being plainly evident in the tone of his voice. Studying did not mix with him, at least until there was an actual importance for it. There would not be an actual importance

"Actually, I am," she said briefly, chuckling lightly at their groans, before getting up to go find her quarters, "You know where I'm off to. I'll owl you the password."

As she walked out of the Hall, they looked at her plate with disbelief. Somehow, she had managed to clear hers before they had even started on their second serving. Perhaps, Harry thought with a smirk, it was because her plate had not been nearly as heaping as theirs.

Hermione Granger was far from being prepared with the sight she was about to see, for as soon as she walked out of the doors, Lupin's eyes met hers. Silently cursing herself for her sudden and rigid fear at being gazed down by a dangerous werewolf, her breath caught. Nothing could save her now, nothing.

The look in the monster's feral eyes told her enough. Those green eyes were hungry, and powerful. Before he came towards her, she had a brief amount of time to wonder how he got in here. Slowly, her eyes moved around the Entrance Hall, and saw none other than Snape, standing at the top of the stairs that led to the dungeon. With no extra surprise, she noted that he was in much the same condition as she, but far more disheveled.

A growl rising from the throat of the thing in the Entrance Hall snapped her attention back to him, bile rising in her throat. Never before had she been so afraid – not even when she and Harry and Ron faced Voldemort at the end of Christmas break during their sixth year. This was utter doom.

The monster – no, not monster, Remus Lupin – leapt for her.

She screamed, although she was frozen to the spot. Last time, there had been chance of success.

The snarl from the creature brought Snape into a rage, and as Lupin leaped for Hermione, he leaped for her as well, wand out. "LEVICORPUS!" he bellowed, with enough strength to force werewolf-Lupin into the air, dangled by one ankle. The wolf was snarling and throwing a near tantrum, while Hermione had slowly slid to the floor in a dead faint. Snape couldn't blame her, although he smirked with some satisfaction.

Dumbledore was immediately there, before he could make some witty and drab mark about the situation to the werewolf before him. Twisting his wand into an intricate pattern, the severely aged headmaster bound the werewolf and sent him hurtling out the front doors of the Great Hall. The other professors were in the doorway, trying to keep Ron Weasley and Harry Potter from leaping out and strangling the nearest person to Hermione, which happened to be Professor Snape, on his was to check on the twit's condition.

"Severus," the Headmaster advised, "I believe it would be best if you took both yourself and Miss Granger to the Hospital Wing. When Poppy has finished dressing your wounds, you will meet me in my office for further instructions." The Potions Master groaned; he hated how the mediwitch of the castle fretted over him. She would kill him once she heard what had happened – thank Merlin none of his injuries was an actual bite. He didn't remember the wolf's fangs sinking into his pale skin, only the claws, and the magical barrier that the wolf's fury had burst like a flimsy plastic balloon.

He simply levitated the fainted teenager, and limped off to the Hospital Wing, hoping that Pomfrey would not fuss too entirely much. Granger, although floating a foot above the ground, her vulnerable form drifting ahead of him, did not stir. He envied her; the berating from Minerva and Albus was sure to be severe, but he deserved it. She did not have to fret over whether her Hogwarts stay this year would be terminated far too early. Albus and Minerva had not been happy with the arrangement he had made with Lupin. They had agreed on his proposition as long as _no students were harmed_. One almost was; in fact, Hermione was as good as dead even though there was not a scratch on her. It had been Severus' quick intervention that had saved her; if he had not been the double agent in the war, had not been a Death Eater and a member of the Order of the Phoenix, had he not been trained in the art of defense, offense, and war, his reflexes would not have been up to par. Hermione would have been bitten, at the least, or worse yet – killed. He wasn't worried for her well-being at this point, though. She was fine. She would have been fine, and had she been bitten, he had no doubt that she would discover a complete cure for the disease within two weeks. Bloody know-it-all: she was scotch free, whereas he, well, he could very well be fired. Remus Lupin might kill _him_ for letting him loose on the castle, for not making sure the wards had been strong enough.

Severus Snape had been careless, and he mentally raved at himself, his mood growing ever darker. He had been so excited by the possibility of creating a stronger potion than Wolfsbane, a potion that while, may not cure lycanthropy, and would at least cause a functional human being during the full moon. Transformation wouldn't be nearly as painful. The wolf-man would talk. In fact, it stemmed much from his discovery of Hermione Granger's botched Polyjuice potion attempt in her second year. With a bemused smirk, he remembered her confession to him when they were both imprisoned, when they thought all was lost. _"I broke into your stores second year. It was me, not Harry," she had said. "I brewed a Polyjuice Potion in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom." He had almost laughed, and after asking her whether or not this was the reason for her, er, transformation into a cat, she had nodded solemnly. _It was, in retrospect, humorous, but at the time, there was no humor. He had only chuckled darkly, further scaring her into thinking the end was near. Now, he found equally no humor, because for a moment, he had seen that utter fear on her face again. That 'oh Merlin the world is over, I'm going to die' look.

It scared him.

This was the second time that he, Severus Snape, had caused that look to cross over the girl's face, and it had not been a year yet.

What he currently was glowering about was the fact that he had scared her and that in turn had scared him: Severus Snape did not fear the emotions of petty teenagers. Nevertheless, it was Miss Granger – Hermione, after all. She was one of his most promising students, and she even seemed to enjoy Potions, almost have a passion for it, especially recently. Oh, he knew it was nothing like she felt for Arithmancy or Transfiguration, but it was closer to true passion than any of his other students had. This was the girl he had captured (with her permission) only to find that both of them ended up as Lord Voldemort's prisoners. This was the girl that had, in what felt like the last hours of their mortal lives, poured out her entire heart and soul to him. This was the courageous Gryffindor that had never feared for herself, but like him, always for those around her. This was the one student he had never intimidated – hurt, offended, and baffled, maybe, but never terrified.

And twice now, his actions had caused that dreadful look. He needed to snap out of this; he couldn't be upset over something as trivial as this. He had his own skin to worry out – he needed to explain what exactly had happened to Miss Granger, Poppy Pomfrey, Albus Dumbledore, and Minerva McGonagall. And by the gods, he would probably have to – he gulped a little at this foreign idea – apologize, sincerely.

"Miss Granger has crossed the path of danger already, and term has just begun," he growled at Poppy's inquiring look, "I tremble to think what trouble she will get in this year, if this is any indicator." Yes, play it cool. He didn't really need her to look at his wounds, although a finite amount of blood was tickling his leg hairs, staining his trousers, and puddling around his left foot. "No doubt Potter and Weasley will be banging on your door soon, and I wish to be gone before their…timely…arrival."

"Severus Snape, what happened to you and the girl? It was your experiment with Remus, wasn't it? Oh, I told you time and again that someone was going to get –" her words stopped as he glared icily at her. "Oh, alright. Let's see that leg."

Moving his wand so that he could set Hermione's levitating, unconscious form onto the nearest hospital bed, he lifted his trouser leg to show her the five gashed low on his thigh. They weren't too bad; other, deeper scars criss-crossed these fresh wounds, and although these would indeed leave scars, well, they would only be faint lines. The others were shining, white streaks of raised flesh. With a murmured incantation and a deft placement of her own wand, Poppy watched as his wounds knit together carefully and slowly.

It was then that she looked at him with an unspoken question. "I was not bitten, as you surely can tell. Merely scratched and magically drained. Now, if you excuse me, I have pressing matters to attend to." The mediwitch merely nodded and turned around to bustle for something for the fainted girl.

Neither noticed that she stirred.

They both heard, however, her speak. "Professor? What…happened?"

"Your notorious Gryffindor courage failed you," he drawled, not bothering to stop or turn around. It was time to face Minerva and Albus, and he had to admit that it was not something he was looking forward to.

Hermione flinched; Poppy clicked disapprovingly, and Severus' robes billowed as he turned the corner dramatically almost colliding with Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley as they sprinted down the corridor. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for improper conduct," was all he said, and the boys cringed. Snape was in a bad mood, and everyone in the castle probably knew why by now.

Everyone knew that the acerbic Potions Master had let loose a ravenous, dangerous werewolf on Hogwarts, even if by mistake.


	2. Flashback

**Lollerskates. I actually re-read the entire FFT story again, and I am surprised at how ridiculously little sense I made. It inspired me to write another chapter. Now, with it being two am, I probably should be in bed, but...I slaved on the chapter! Hope you enjoy, read, review, and remember that the characters and places are not mine, however much I wish them to be.**

Madame Pomfrey stared imperiously at Harry and Ron, trying to muster up a glare worthy of the man who had just stalked out of her domain. It wasn't working – either she was too matronly to phase the two, both of them used to Molly Weasley, the only woman that could give Poppy a run for her money, or the rascals were really that anxious to see their friend. "Oh alright, let me give her a Calming Draught and then you can have ten minutes," she finally conceded, looking down her nose at their concerned faces. "If she so much as flinches, you two are out." Calming Draught administered, much of the color came back to Hermione's stricken face. It had not been mere terror for her own life that had come into her mind; Moony would have a conniption fit when (and if) he found out about their confrontation in the Entrance Hall. Thank Merlin for Professor Snape's intervention, though – it was the second time he'd gotten her into a perilous mess, though, although he had managed to extricate her from danger both times. She was still badly shaken, and still appalled at what Snape's parting words had been, but she was better, especially now that her two best friends were attentively at her bedside.

"Hermione, you okay?" Ron asked bluntly, and immediately had to muffle a shout. Harry had elbowed him in the ribs, as well as shot him a nice, evil glare befitting of a dark wizard.

Hermione looked peevish, as well, although she resisted the urge to smack Ron. "Ronald, really. I get attacked by a…a werewolf, and you think to ask me if I'm okay?" Her mind noted the improper grammar – only Hermione would think of that in this situation. "You could have asked what happened, or you could have told me what happened after I…er…fainted."

"But are you okay?"

"Ronald Weasley, I just got attacked and barely missed being wounded by a werewolf, by a werewolf that we know! Do you bloody _think_ I am okay?" she scowled, crossing her arms over her chest and both boys knew that if she were standing, that left foot would be tapping. Ron only shook his head, and Hermione had to sigh. "Seriously, you really do have the obliviousness of a rock, Ronald. Anyway, he was there when I slipped out of the Great Hall. I only assume that Professor Snape was experimenting with potions for lycanthropy or something like that, because he was at the top of the dungeon stairs looking quite exhausted. Perhaps Moo – I mean Professor Lupin – escaped." She had no idea how close to the truth she was with this hypothesis, but would not be surprised if her hunch was indeed, correct. "After that, I screamed, and well, I'm sure you know what happened after that."

"Actually, Hermione, the professors kept us out of the Entrance Hall and all we know was that you, you know…on the ground and all. They had already moved M- Professor Lupin at that point, so we're not quite sure what happened. Perhaps you could ask Dumbledore?" Harry suggested, and Hermione smiled softly, her hands falling to her sides. Maybe she would ask the headmaster, although she certainly did not see him in the same sort of light Harry did. Harry hero-worshipped Albus Dumbledore, and while Hermione thought him a brilliant wizard, she also realized that their headmaster was a bit of a meddler, and even though he was brilliant, he could be scary sometimes. But yes, perhaps she would take Harry's advice. After all, it seemed that Dumbledore did indeed know almost everything about Hogwarts and what went on inside its walls.

"Yeah. He looked mad, though. It was bloody scary. I think he might fire Snape's arse." Ron did not look the least regretful at this admission, even when Hermione shot him a look for his use of language in front of a lady. Truthfully, she used much more colorful language, but only in the privacy of her dorms, or her bedroom at home – never in public. "I think the greasy git deserves it."

"Ronald! He's your professor!" Hermione cried indignantly, and at that, Poppy came bustling out of her office, demanding that the boys leave.

"But-but, we've hardly gotten to see her!" Harry whined, earning him a quick smack on the back of the head by Hermione, as he had taken the chair next to her bed. Ron did not comment, and he, like Harry, looked sullen and grudging as he left the Hospital Wing. He did, however, turn around to send Hermione a wink behind Madame Pomfrey's back. It warmed the girl's heart and set smile on her face.

He could be such a sweet, playful boy when he wanted to be, Hermione mused, thanks to the Calming Draught. Nevertheless, although she thought him handsome, and even at one point harbored feelings for him, she had come to face the colors. He was simply too much her opposite for them to ever truly get along. Yes, they did date for a short while, and it was only thanks to Harry's influence that they managed to break up as amicably as they did. Hermione had feared an utter blowout, because Ron was famous for being temperamental. It was surprising that the feeling was mutual – they were better off as friends than not. Ron had gotten tired of Hermione's constant fretting about school and her attempts to debate theories with him (and Harry), and Hermione had given up on convincing him that Quidditch was not the only important thing in the world.

Ron had retorted that he thought girls and food were quite important, as well, although not necessarily in that order. She chuckled at the thought. "What tickled you, Miss Granger?" the mediwitch asked, somewhat curiously. Most of the time, she stayed out of student's affairs, but she was lonely after summer holidays, and Hermione was in good enough condition for intelligent conversation.

Hermione, however, just shook her head, smiling serenely. "Nothing, really. Just a good memory," she muttered softly, barely loud enough for the healer to actually hear. "It's nice to have good friends, I think, because they help us through frightening times. I don't think we could have done it if we weren't together." She was talking, but not about something that Pomfrey wanted, and Hermione did not see the dark shadow that passed over the older witch's face.

"Yes, I do suppose that is true. After all, Headmaster Dumbledore says that we only accomplished what we did out of love," she replied, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. Most of Hogwarts did not know that Filius and Poppy had been engaged to be married, albeit secretly. The diminutive Charms professor had been one of the first casualties of the final battle, and although Poppy admired his bravery, she still had not forgiven him for leaving her. They were going to announce their relationship after the war was over, but she could not help but to secretly grieve the loss of her lover.

"Are you okay, ma'am?" Hermione asked cautiously, hearing the slight amount of vibration in the mediwitch's voice that had not been there before. The healer nodded, smiled brightly, and went back to her office, humming, but not before she informed Hermione that she was to stay here until the headmaster came for her, and that could be anytime from one millisecond in the future to five months in the future. When it came to certain things – such as appointments – Hermione had learned that Albus Dumbledore was a bit less than perfunctory.

Somehow, it made him more human. But Professor Snape – he was still an enigma, wrapped in another enigma. He knew almost everything about her, and she knew nearly nothing about him. It had happened over Christmas holidays, a week before the final battle. He had needed to prove his trustworthiness by bringing a gift for the Dark Lord, someone that Harry Potter would unwaveringly persue, and Hermione had volunteered. The Order had reluctantly agreed, but then – Snape let his guard drop around Hermione, slipping up and reminding her of her 'civic duty.' Not enough to get him killed, he was thrown unceremoniously into her little prison cell, something they had to endure, apparently…together.

-------

"_Miss Granger, would you please be quiet?" he growled at her, and she squeaked slightly, looking at him fearfully. "I do not want to live out my last minutes, hours, or especially not my last days, listening to your inane chatter." She had trembled visibly at that, and he had sighed. It was his own fault; he was still trying to convince Lord Voldemort that it had simply been to keep the Order delusional as to whose side he was on, but from all appearances, Tom Riddle had finally become disillusioned as to who, or what, his favored servant was._

"_Last…days?" she breathed, inching closer to him (much to his dismay). She was young, and although at school and at Order meetings, she showed much more maturity than was necessary for her age, right now she was sixteen, scared that she would die without ever kissing a boy and without children of her own. She was scared that she would never see her parents again. "I…I don't want to die, Professor Snape," she confided, before realizing that the words sounded stupid. "I don't want you to die, either. You don't deserve it, I don't think."_

"_Who are you to know what I do and do not deserve?" he growled, his dark eyes glancing at her. In the faded light, his face and figure was shaded in greys – his skin where what little light they had played a smoky grey, the shadowed planes of his face a rich, velvety grey, and his robes, hair, and eyes – a deep, intoxicating black. It was too dark, they were too close, and he was now in a darker mood than he had been before. "Don't pretend you know me, Miss Granger. It is not wise."_

_She squeaked again – how he wished that she would stop doing that, but it seemed that she had no control of that particular noise. "I didn't…I don't mean…oh never mind. Do you really think that we will die?" Of all the infuriating, obnoxious, gloomy questions she could have asked, she had to ask that one. He nodded stiffly, scowling at her. She again, felt belittled and betrayed. "Oh. In that case, I would like to say that I was behind most of the things Harry, Ron, and I did. Of course, Harry or Ron would get the idea, but they would never have been able to do it without me."_

"_Arrogant chit. I would compare you to Potter, but for fear that it might be a compliment to your ego," he hissed. Did he really want to be stuck in a five by five room with this sixteen year old brat? No – there wasn't any room for them to be comfortable, and in order to sleep…He shuddered just to think of it. _

"_I don't mean to be arrogant, sir," she said, with a hint of offense in her trembling voice. She was still very frightened. Part of him – the old Severus, the Severus before his graduation from Hogwarts – wanted to tell her it would be all right, just to hear the reassurance himself. The vast majority of him screamed that they were going to die, and that the world was going to fall to the Dark Lord. It would be a lie to say that they would be okay. "I was just…confession is good for the soul, my parents said. I feel the need to confess. Is that alright with you?"_

_He did not say a word. She took it as a hint to continue, even if it was simply him ignoring her._

"_When you told me that my teeth were no different, Professor, after Mal-Draco hexed me, I hated you. Sometimes I still hate you, but you were always one of my favorite professors. We learned from you, not just about Potions, sir, but about life. I think it is very important that you did not coddle us," she said, her voice no longer wavering as much, as if she were drawing strength from her words towards him. "I believe that you meant it that way, but I won't make assumptions. Ron and Harry hate you, and I don't think that they will ever forgive you. I don't think you need forgiveness though – not that you require it or want it, but more that you never did anything towards us that actually merited forgiveness."_

"_This – you being here – merits forgiveness on your part, and an apology on my part," he had said softly, eyes closed with grief that he did not want her to see. It was surprising that such a young girl, a child really, could have such powerful, optimistic thoughts about people. Most children her age hated him, didn't think anything of him, and wanted nothing to do with him. But here she was, reaching out to him for comfort, although it might have more to do with the fact that they were the only two in their tiny five by five cell rather than her wanting him._

"_Waywardness aside, Professor, apology accepted," she said, and then they both fell quiet. Nothing but the sound of rhythmic breathing pervaded the stale air, and for a moment, Severus thought that she had fallen asleep. Her few words bore no need for a reply, and so he had not said anything. Part of him wished he had, for he did not want to be so lonely, with his back up against the cold stone. It was just when the unwanted, unbidden thought of him actually feeling relieved that it was Granger here instead of say…Weasley popped into his mind that she spoke again. "There's so much I wanted out of life. I wanted to get married, have children…but that's not all. I have no aspirations for the Ministry. As far as I'm concerned, I believe I would be no more than a slave to do the Minister's bidding, the current way things are going. I would have liked to continue my education and maybe become a professor. Arithmancy or Charms…maybe Potions, if you had retired; I like Potions. They are complex and underrated, and I believe that with proper application, I could get other students to appreciate the sheer art of brewing a potion." She paused, as if to gauge his reaction._

_His reaction was not something that she had desired. "You insinuate my practices are not proper, Miss Granger. I caution you to remember your place."_

_She had continued to explain the tale of her Polyjuice potion woe in her second year, something that interested him much more than her thoughts on what she had wanted to do with her life._

--------

Hermione sighed as the memory faded into the back of her brain again, absently fingering the knut she held in her robe pocket at all times. It was small, but it was very important. Setting it under her pillow, she turned over and let herself doze off. The day had been understandably exhausting.

Before she fell asleep, she wondered how things were going elsewhere, mainly, whether or not she would have a chance to actually get some shut-eye before Albus Dumbledore appeared.

Sleep overcame her.


	3. Chocolate

**Hah. Four thirty am. I'm on a roll. Actually, I'm cleaning my room - it was possibly the nastiest stinkhole on the planet, and now it's all shining and brilliantly clutter-free. I'm currently doing the laundry. There was, sad enough, a lot of it. ANYWAY. Yeah, so I happened to write another chapter. Read? Review? Again, still, sadly, disappointingly, not mine, nor is any money being made off this. Plot, however, I am free to claim I believe?**

"Nargle."

The single word was delivered with a mixture of anxiety, disgust, and dismay, uttered in such a fearsome way that it seemed as if it was a curse word. Dumbledore had recently veered away from using the pathway of candy flavors, having exhausted them all, and was now on a _Quibbler_ creature escapade. 'Nargle' was his latest choice, something none of the staff were happy about, least of all Severus.

No matter how concerned he was about the outcome of this meeting, he did not show it. Severus Snape still cut an imposing, intimidating and may I say it, awe-inspiring figure. Tall and slender with severe black, stiff robes on, robes he almost always managed to make billow and ripple with a terrifying air, his mouth was set in a firm line, his eyes determined. He would, at least, make it out of this meeting whole and alive, he thought. His lips twitched slightly at the dark humour – at least he had his life and soul, no matter what mood Dumbledore was in. His other, late master had not been so predictable and would never have been so forgiving as the twinkling meddler.

McGonagall was also there; he noted this as he ascended the stairs and glared into the open office door. "Headmaster, Professor McGonagall," he stated formally, dropping the acerbic wit he kept readily at store under normal circumstances. This did not qualify as a normal circumstance. He had nearly killed a student, nearly killed Hermione, someone he had once shared a certain dungeon cell with for almost a week not even a year ago. He still knew more about the child – well, young woman, technically, considering she would turn seventeen in a few weeks (yes, he did know her birthday – he absorbed information, it was part of him and it was part of his past job as a spy) and then would officially be of age.

Merlin's balls, McGonagall looked fit to kill and Dumbledore, well, he had only ever seen him this angry once before, and that was when the Dementors attacked Harry Potter, golden boy, at a Quidditch game, almost four years ago. Perhaps he had been wrong with his assumption that no matter what happened, he would come out alive. Had he been Hermione Granger, he would have squeaked unattractively at that point. But thank Merlin, he was not Hermione Granger, and therefore did not even twitch under the icy blue stare of the normally merry old man nor under the hardened, brown glare of the stern woman (who was also several years his senior). He wanted to gulp, but his years facing a pair of red eyes, merciless, cold, and unfeeling, prevented that. It easily prevented that.

"Severus, I'm sure I do not have to tell you that I am disappointed in you," Dumbledore began, staring down his crooked nose at him. While Severus was tall, Albus was several centimeters taller. He felt like a little boy again, being disciplined for the first time by one of his professors. He said nothing, but gave the headmaster what he wanted – an almost imperceptible nod. "We laid down the rules very clearly. You were to have every door that was placed in between Remus and the student body heavily warded, and while I do not doubt that they were warded, I think you underestimated your opponent. An enraged werewolf is extremely hard to contain, and I am, quite frankly, surprised both yourself and Miss Granger survived the ordeal without more than a scratch."

Minerva looked like she wanted to butt in, probably to defend her House's students or say something incredibly stupid, at least, for a woman of her stature. Severus was not about to give her the pleasure. "I did not think it would be much of a problem. It had – in my excitement – slipped my mind that regular Stunners do not work on freshly transformed werewolves."

"A most grievous error, my dear boy, I assure you, and one I know that you will never repeat," Dumbledore replied, much to the chagrin of one Minerva McGonagall, who was beginning to grow red in the face. It seemed very much to her that Albus was letting the dungeon bat off too easily. "Did you at least get the blood?" That did it.

"I WANT TO KNOW WHY THIS IS SO BLOODY IMPORTANT THAT YOU THINK IT IS OF NO CONSEQUENCE THAT HERMIONE GRANGER COULD HAVE LOST HER LIFE TONIGHT, ALBUS DUMBLEDORE!" she roared, and Severus had to admit that he jumped a little. He had never heard McGonagall roar. It was rather scary. Normally, she just fixed you with this stern little disappointed stare until you felt as if all the hope was going to leave you forever. Minerva McGonagall when angry was rather like a Dementor in that way, but when she was furious – all hell broke loose.

"Now Minnie –"

"Don't you 'now Minnie' me, Albus. I would like to know why this vial of werewolf blood is so important that we must endanger the student body to get it. I thought Remus was supposed to be under the Wolfsbane. I demand an explanation. I know you think you're right, Albus, but share with me. What is so important?" she growled.

"I believe I will answer that. Miss Granger is the reason we need the werewolf blood. She inspired me –" here he ignored McGonagall's incredulous stare – "to brew a potion similar to Polyjuice, but combined with elements of Wolfsbane. Lupin and I have been experimenting with it long enough, but we were led to believe from the trials that the blood of a transformed lycanthrope _not_ under the influence of Wolfsbane would lead to a breakthrough. I explained this already to the Headmaster, and perhaps he might in turn explain it to you." It was his turn to stare imperiously down his nose at someone. "I don't think you would understand it. It's complex."

"Severus, do be kind," Dumbledore advised, his serious face still on, although his eyes twinkled. "I think it is time indeed to discuss the ramifications of your altercation with Remus and Hermione tonight." _Damn, damn, damn,_ Severus thought, _the man is going to try and meddle in my affairs again._ This happened often. Albus thought of Severus as his son, and only wanted the best for him, but he sure had some convoluted ways of getting his point across. After all, wearing pink robes all day on Valentine's Day was most definitely not Severus' favorite memory. He did not wear pink.

Green, if he wasn't teaching or at Hogwarts, and other colors as needed, but never pink, and most certainly never _hot_ pink. It looked ridiculous on him, to begin with. It looked ridiculous on just about anyone. For some reason, though, the headmaster had pulled it off.

Severus still feared for his sanity when the man twinkled.

"Sir?" he questioned, trying to refrain from letting curiosity and morbid disdain drip from the word. "What will those be?"

"I merely wish for you to apologize to Hermione for endangering her life, to Harry Potter and Ron Weasley for endangering Hermione's life, and to Remus Lupin, for using him as a pawn in all this, although…you might want to wait a few days before confronting Remus. He's probably testy," Dumbledore said.

Twinkling.

Severus, at once, understood why Tom Riddle feared the Headmaster of Hogwarts. He truly was a scary, meddling, insane, underestimated old codger. This had to be the worst punishment ever dealt to him. "Must I be sincere?" he dared to bite back, causing the grey-bearded Dumbledore to twinkle even more.

"Severus, you are intelligent enough to answer that question. Now – I must see to Hermione. Do you care to accompany me? She might want you to explain to her what exactly the potion you're creating is," he said, segueing smoothly into something that would almost trick Severus into coming along of his own free will – if it had been a Slytherin in the hospital wing and not a bloody Gryffindor. "Minnie, I'll be back in a hour." Yeah, right. Dumbledore was notoriously always at least ten minutes late – in fact, the only times he was not late were when he was beyond fury and rage. Severus smirked quietly to himself; McGonagall was still fuming silently, and he imagined that she would continue her quarrel with the headmaster when he arrived, most likely, promptly fifteen and a half minutes after he said he would.

Skulking, the Potions Master followed the headmaster into the briefly flaring green flames, unfolding from the Hospital Wing fireplace seconds later. Floo was so easy to travel by, although it was a little disconcerting to step into the green flames. Fire – he had seen too much fire and burning and destruction – fire made him feel uneasy every time he was near it. It reminded him of the man he had seen running, face melting away, arms charred. He always smelt the sickly smell, how the flames appeared mildly green. It was only floo-fire that made him feel this way, though – normally appearing fire, even blue fire, was acceptable. But green fire? No, it was not his favorite thing in the world.

Dumbledore loped – if you could call it that – to Poppy's ajar office door to inform her of his visit. She obviously was unhappy, and expelled him from her office, nearly slamming the door behind her as she murmured something about 'beauty sleep' and her wonderful 'Filius.' Smiling, the now madly twinkling man let his intense blue gaze sweep the ward, landing finally on Severus.

Must he?

The unasked question did not need an answer, and Severus quickly realized that the headmaster did not intend to do much – if any – of the talking. It was his turn now to scan the ward, though, and he did so without much enthusiasm. Locating the Granger girl was not difficult, for hers was the only bed occupied. He stiffened, if it was even possible. She was sleeping. She looked peaceful. Did Albus really wish him to disturb her? Yes, he answered for the old coot. Yes, disturb her. It might even help him with that ridiculous task of apologizing. She would be angry. He would be smug.

It would work.

"Miss Granger," he said coolly, his voice velvet in the night. She stirred, but she did not awaken. Calming Draught, he recognized. He knew that she was an alert sleeper – it was obvious during their brief, forced stay in the same room. She had been awake at the sound of a pin drop, and it probably carried over into her normal life. She should have awakened already, but under the influence of a Calming Draught, one was abnormally mellow. And mellow was never a word he would have picked to describe the insufferable witch. He steeled himself.

And he shook her awake, not by touching her, but by grabbing the bedpost and shaking violently. She almost fell out of bed as she woke up, scrambling to regain her balance in the flimsy piece of furniture. "Professor Snape!" she gasped, clearly startled, nearly frightened, and in a haste to cover her hospital gown back up with the stark white bedclothes. He just stared at her, which was even more disconcerting. He wanted to make her feel as uncomfortable as he did, and he appeared to be succeeding, when suddenly; she regained her composure, and, looking at him innocently, said, "To what do I owe this unexpected visit?" A flicker of something in her eyes – she had apparently remembered their other undesired encounter shortly after Christmas, shortly before the end of the war.

"I have come to apologize for recklessly endangering your life and the lives of the other students, Miss Granger. I have not come to drivel on and feed you meaningless prattle about sympathy when all that occurred was your sudden lack of Gryffindor courage," he said, nearly flatly, although all three parties could tell that his apology was sincere. "Please extend my apologies to Potter and Weasley as well, because I'm quite sure they are going mad with worry over your pathetic state." Only Professor Snape could find that loophole, and only Professor Snape could have made a sincere apology sound like a great insult, Hermione thought. It was almost endearing, or would have been, had she known what had driven him.

"Waywardness aside, Professor, apology accepted," she said, and both of them immediately recognized the wording. It was purposeful on Hermione's part, and she knew that he was certain of it. Thinking of their predicament had only landed Hermione in more trouble, and now he was certain that he would be having nightmares of having to endure the girl's most private thoughts once again. "But might I dare to ask about what happened? Would you tell me?"

Of course she had to know everything, he thought sardonically to himself as he watched her, his face unreadable to any but himself and of course, the now absent Albus Dumbledore. Hermione had never noticed that the man was there, and now he had left without a sound. The Floo had not crackled, and the door had not creaked as it was wont to do. There was no explanation other than the fact that Albus simply was not there anymore. She was so childish in her curiosity, but he felt that she, at least, would understand what exactly was at stake with this potion. He would not reveal that to her, at least, not yet, but perhaps she would understand the complexity of the task. Dumbledore thought so, at least, and even though the man was a mischievous meddler, Snape trusted him and his judgment.

Minerva McGonagall, brilliant in her own right, wouldn't have. She had never had the mind for Potions that Hermione had.

"Professor Lupin and I are working on a potion more potent than the Wolfsbane," he said, and she scrambled into a sitting position, watching him with rapt attention. Nothing would distract her now, if he knew her like he thought he did. "Of course, it was thanks to your brief stint as a cat that led me to my theory. What if we were to mix the elements of your animal Polyjuice with that of Wolfsbane? If my theory is correct, the most that would happen at transformation would be an uncomfortable twinge, and after that, a rather embarrassing half man, half wolf guise, but he would be a fully functional being. We had some success, but nothing yet in staving off the violence. Doing research in the library, Professor Lupin happened upon some interesting information regarding blood magic. He felt as if werewolf's blood might strengthen the potion. Under the Wolfsbane – not the modified brew – I drew a vial of his blood. The modified brew exploded."

"That's absolutely brilliant. How did you go about fixing the, er, explosion? It still doesn't explain what happened tonight except," she stopped, a look of realization coming over her face, soon replaced by excitement. Severus silently gulped, knowing what was coming. The girl was too smart for her own good. "You wanted to see how un-treated werewolf blood would work with the potion, but the plan backfired, and Rem – I mean, Professor Lupin somehow escaped? Why didn't you have the dungeons warded? Oh, never mind, that doesn't matter. Did you get the blood? Or, for that matter, have either of you thought about using unsweetened cocoa powder?"

"Yes, Professor Lupin escaped, obviously, otherwise we wouldn't be here, Miss Granger, and I most certainly would not have told you about the potion – five points from Gryffindor for improper address of faculty," he growled. "It's none of your business why I did not ward the dungeons, nor is it your business about Professor Lupin's blood."

"And the chocolate?"

For being so brilliant, Severus sometimes felt like he was one of the dunderheads.

"That will be all, Miss Granger. Good night." Again, unvoiced insults played in his head, but her idea sent a revitalization running through his veins.

_Chocolate._

Now, why hadn't either of them thought of that? Especially Lupin – he was always on that chocolate-cures-all-ailments kick, surely he should have considered the idea of using chocolate? Perhaps they had, at one point, considered it, but surely they would have tried?

No. Sugar interferes with potions it does not belong in, especially the Wolfsbane potion.

But unsweetened chocolate, freshly ground? Or even whole cocoa beans? Severus knew the idea deserved merit even as it had come out of that insufferable know-it-all's mouth. Most of her ideas, however half-baked and hare-brained, had some grain of merit in them, after all, as much as he detested to admit.


	4. Silver Bars

**So it's shorter than the others, forgive me - but yay, an update. I should get another up this week, maybe more than one, but here's a little bit for now. As always, read, review, and I own the plot, and nothing more.**

He groaned as he woke up in an unfamiliar environment. It was not his office, it was not Snape's dungeon, and it certainly wasn't inside. Leaves blanketed the floor, and tattered clothing around his half-naked form was dirty, brown from mud and red from –

Fuck.

"Shit," was all he said as he straightened up, assessing the damage. His senses, still heightened, realized that the blood was thankfully not a human's, but rather a stag's. Double-shit, he thought as he realized what that could have meant. But no – perhaps he had simply wandered too near the stag's family. That was more likely; he never hunted animals in his wolf form, at least, that he was aware of. That's when he recalled what was so important that he should not have woken up a mile from the castle.

The potion.

His blood.

The feast.

Oh Merlin. _The students!_

What had they done? Were they really stupid enough to try it on the first night students were ensconced safely back in Hogwarts? What had happened? He was upset at himself, and understandably so, but even more so at Snivellus. The man was supposed to put wards on essentially every door that led to the Great Hall in some way. And, knowing Hogwarts, this was probably nine out of ten doors that were in the dungeon. Knowing Snape, the man probably thought that his one powerful ward was enough. Snape calling Potter arrogant, well, that was like the pot calling the kettle back. Part of him, the paranoid part that was all too much like Sirius, was claiming that the prat had done it on purpose, but Remus knew Severus better than that. Although he certainly was formidable, greasy, and none too easy to actually get along with, Severus would never purposefully endanger students, even for a pet project of his.

Remus chuckled wearily at his dark humor, struggling to get to his feet. He was upset, and he was frightened that he might have done something to one of the students – he faintly recalled a very female, very human scream, but nothing more. He needed some humor, although he found very little in his situation. They should have gone to the Shrieking Shack; it would have been much better than the Potions labs, extensive as they were.

It was a long walk back to Hogwarts – at least a mile. Exhausted, slightly wounded, and with the realization that he probably frightened the students more than an angry Severus never could. Disillusioned youth was one thing to deal with, but he would also have to confront Dumbledore, Severus, and most likely, several irate parents before this was over. It seemed to him, however, that the Potions Master should get the brunt of the punishment though, but Remus was a fair, even-tempered person.

He still wondered how he managed to get past all the wards.

------------------------------------

"What?!" he exclaimed, having just put fresh clothes on – a loose cotton shirt and a pair of grey sweats, after all, it was a Saturday and classes did not start until Monday – and arrived at the Potions lab. "You mean to tell me that it slipped your mind to ward the doors."

"Yes."

"And the cage?"

"Indeed."

"Of all the half-witted things I had come to expect from you, Severus Snape, I had never expected this! You endangered countless students, yourself, and the faculty! Yet you have the nerve to be your normal sniveling self?" shouted the irked Remus Lupin. A feral light glinted in his eyes – it was too close to the full moon for him to be nearly rational.

"Yes. After you attacked Miss Granger –" and here a strangled gasp from Lupin – "do not worry, she is unharmed but for her dignity – Albus persuaded me to inform her of our project. For an insufferable know-it-all, she had some interesting thoughts on the matter." It was easy to switch into academic mode, very easy, especially after last night. This was what creeped some of the staff out more than his enigmatic personality – his ability to refrain from insulting nearly everyone when describing his research.

"I attacked Hermione?" choked Lupin, obviously not caring about the potion on that matter.

Severus sighed. "Yes, and you would have attacked the rest of the Hogwarts population had I not succeeded in lifting you in the air by your ankle, you pathetic creature. Stop pitying yourself. It's not becoming," he growled impatiently. It was clear that he was excited, but it was hard to say for the other man what he was excited about.

"I'm not pitying myself!"

"You are, and it is a sore sight on a grown man. Stop acting like Potter, Lupin. One of him is more than enough."

Lupin sighed, immediately quieting, although the way his mouth was contorted in an unbecoming sneer suggested that Snape better get on with it before he was throttled into a bloody pulp.

"Chocolate."

"Yes, thank you," Remus said, believing that it had been a generous offer from the usually stingy Severus.

"No, you imbecile. For the Potion – the properties of unsweetened chocolate might help stabilize it."

"Oh."

Remus appeared thoughtful – wasn't he supposed to be the intelligent one in the Marauders? Pettigrew was useless, Black the charmer, and Potter the head of the snake, but mousy Remus had always been in the background. Severus did not like the chances of the others' intelligence if this was the show of the DADA teacher's brains. Suddenly, unbidden, came Hermione's words: "…_they would never have been able to do it without me_." He wondered if it was the same for the Marauders. Was Lupin's knowledge what kept the prats out of trouble?

Severus suddenly resented the mousy man that was reminding him too much of a mousy girl at the moment.

"Chocolate?"

"Yes. Must I spell it out?"

"It could work."

All Severus did was nod, turn, and then speak vehemently. "I apologize for not warding the doors. It was entirely arrogant of me to think I could successfully keep a werewolf in an unwarded cage. Next time, bars will be silver-coated." He smirked, knowing that Lupin probably flinched. While silver was not deadly, it was repellent, and over time it could prove fatal if it reached the bloodstream and built up, much like mercury and lead.

"You wouldn't."

"It would keep you at bay, would it not? I have enough of your blood to brew a lifetime's worth of potions, if we are correct in our stipulations. Your lycanthropy is no longer needed, except for a smattering of tests. It will take time to brew the potion, though." Severus quieted, waiting for the man to say something, anything. When Remus did not, Severus dismissed him.

Remus went to find Hermione, or Dumbledore – whichever he rand into first.


	5. Apologies and Sundays

**Alright, new installment! Yay! As always, I own nothing, and if I did, Severus wouldn't be dead. Thank you to **_**Sonseeahray**_** and **_**GeoHighOnLife**_** for reviewing!**

Harry and Ron had just entered the Hospital Wing, and Hermione had visibly brightened. Even though the Headmaster had instructed Madame Pomfrey that their Head Girl was free to go, Poppy still wanted to observe the girl longer, but Hermione was not aware of this face, nor would she have minded it too terrible. After all, the newest edition of _Hogwarts: A History_ had just been published, and with the new textbooks she had needed for this year, she had not had a chance to read it yet. Of course, that didn't mean she wasn't happy to see Harry and Ron again, for they were, after all, like brothers to her. Peering over the top of her thick, newly beloved tome, she murmured, "Hello."

"Hey, 'Mione," Harry said, trying to be casual. He was still worried about what would happen to Lupin and how the man would react. The whole school had been told that morning at breakfast that the werewolf had not been Lupin, but an old friend of Professor Snape's. The piece of information that stuck in students' minds the most was that Professor Snape, greasy bat of the dungeons, had even a single friend. That this friend was a werewolf made the student body doubt even farther the hope of some first years that Professor Snape was kind under all that sarcasm and cruelty. But of course, Harry, Hermione, and Ron knew better, and they also suspected that Remus was taking it hard. They were right to be concerned; Remus was more than a professor, he was a friend and mentor to all three of them. Nevertheless, Harry did not speak of this, at least not in words. "How are you doing? Are you okay?"

Before she could even answer, Ron blurted out, "Hermione, you're reading that bloody book again?" He didn't realize that it was probably a terrible thing to say until he saw the look of fear on Harry's face and the irritated look on Hermione's face. This was when it was too late to take it back, and he took an involuntary step backwards, hoping it wouldn't be too bad.

Surprisingly, she didn't really lay into him. Perhaps it was her good mood. "Honestly, Ronald, do you not keep up with the literary world or are you just completely ignorant of it? _This_-_"_ paying no mind that in all likelihood, Ron and Harry did not keep up with the literary world and were quite comfortable in their ignorance of it, she lifted the tome into the air "-is the newest edition of _Hogwarts: A History_. You two need to read it, it's most interesting, the revisions that were made to existing chapters. Oh! And the newer chapters are sure to give you two a much needed ego-boost. The writers described Harry as, of course, 'the savior of the wizarding world,' and Ron was described as 'the gallant hero that aided Harry Potter.'" Her impassioned, impromptu speech had started with her looking bitter, but as she finished, she only looked (and sounded) bemused, while both the boys were practically terrified. After all, the book she held in her hands did not look like the abridged version, and had to be at least two thousand or more pages, and probably with the tiniest font in the world.

"And how does it describe you, Hermione?" Harry asked, curiously, although he wasn't sure that he wanted to know.

"Here, let me read you the paragraph." She thumbed through her copy of the book, searching for the page she had marked. "Oh, here it is. '_Hermione Granger was the accomplice to Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, and she was the one to help puzzle out many of the things. Speculated to also be the reason that both boys passed most of their OWLs, Granger was the brightest witch of her age. Several professors would like to add that 'the world should watch out for Hermione Granger.' Working with spy Severus Snape, Granger helped draw the Dark Lord out from his fortress, allowing the famous Order of the Phoenix to engage in the final battle with him.' _Of course, hardly any of it is correct. Severus and I never worked together, and you boys would have most certainly studied and passed your OWLs on your own. I didn't puzzle everything out, only a few things, like that logic test from Professor Snape with the Sorcerer's Stone, and what Slytherin's monster was, and what Dumbledore meant by 'two lives' back in third year – sorry, Ron, you don't know about that – and in fourth year, I – oh, never mind." She had seen the 'please shut up now' looks on her two friends' faces, and decided that it might have been a good idea to be quiet about it. "There's nothing in here about the Sorcerer's Stone, only that Quirrel mysteriously disappeared before the end of second term that year. There's a lot about the Triwizard Tournament and the Chamber, though – although it doesn't mention who the Heir was."

"Hermione, please!" Ron appealed, hoping that Hermione would stop. She did, although she looked at him primly while she closed the book and setting it neatly on the bedside table, she folded her hands in her lap. "Thank you. My brain is dying and term hasn't even started yet!"

"Oh, Ronald, stop being so melodramatic – it's unbecoming on a boy. Harry, to answer your question, I'm perfectly fine. Physically, I'm a little tired, but emotionally and mentally, I believe I'm sound," she said, "Although Professor Snape did come to apologize last night, and that was more than unnerving. He told me to inform you that he regrets putting me in danger and causing emotional stress to you two. Well, that's not what he said, but I think that's what he meant. He apologizes." Seeing their aghast faces, she chuckled a little. It was a bit disconcerting to have listened to the intimidating man apologize, and since Harry and Ron still thought that Professor Snape hated them, they were probably fearing for her sanity.

"Er, Hermione?" Ron began, "You sure you're okay? You sounded a bit mental, there. Snape, apologizing? Bloody hell."

"Ron, I am not mental. It's the truth, and if you don't accept it, well, I'm sorry," Hermione berated, but then continued, lowering her voice to a near hush. "Anyway, they're working on a new version of the Wolfsbane potion and have made several breakthroughs. It's exciting, don't you think? Of course, there are several gaps in his explanation. Like, what exactly does this potion do? And neither of them – Remus or Professor Snape – had thought to put unsweetened chocolate in. But I thought that the idea wasn't without merit, at least for stabilizing the potion, so I mentioned it to the Professor."

Harry groaned. Of course there was something academic involved in Hermione's good mood, and that would probably mean that after she was released from the ward, they would all probably take a field trip to the library for what would possibly be a term-long research project. Ron hadn't caught on yet, but Harry didn't have a doubt that if this continued much longer, he would and then his mood would turn sour. Ron hated the library; perhaps it had something to do with all the days at the end of their sixth year (which ended near the beginning of July that year, thanks to the final battle between the terms) spent there, studying for NEWTs and trying to understand Hermione's fervor for such a thing.

Thankfully, they were saved from hearing more by the perfectly timely entrance of one very drained Remus Lupin. He smiled wanly at their exuberant faces, and held up a hand to keep them from shouting their hellos. Swiftly (and, they noted, with a slight limp) he moved over to Hermione's bedside. "Oh thank Merlin you're okay, Hermione. You probably hate me, but I'm sorry, terribly sorry," he said, and Hermione had the gall to roll her eyes and send him into an even worse state.

"Moony – Remus – I most certainly don't hate you. Well, maybe for not telling me about your project with Professor Snape, but it was bad timing on my part, and bullheadedness on the git's part that landed me here, not you," Hermione reassured him, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. "You rather weren't yourself." Harry and Ron started to laugh at what they perceived as a joke, but Hermione's withering glare shut them up quick.

"Hermione, I'm a danger to society," Remus said, causing her to frown.

"No, Remus, you aren't. You are a brilliant man, and besides, if you and Professor Snape get this potion thing right, it won't be as bad anymore. You're doing a service to werewolf society, and last night someone made a mistake. You're not dangerous," Hermione said, trying to reassure him that he was a good man. She didn't feel the need to mention that she had been scared of him the night before, but then again, the werewolf had caught her by surprise.

Remus had fallen quiet, looking thoughtful, and the trio waited, quite literally, with bated breath, however cliché that is. "I still need to talk to the Headmaster," he said solemnly, somberly, sadly, his mouth crinkling into a frown. "Apologize and thank him – did you know he claims that it wasn't me? Sometimes, I wonder what he's thinking, but then…well, he is Albus, I suppose." His voice was quiet, and it was more than clear that he was talking to himself, mostly, especially since he spoke in such a low, hushed way. Hermione respected this, and busied herself by picking up her beloved, freshly minted book again, but Ron and Harry apparently did not realize that Remus wasn't speaking to them.

"Moony, I'm sure Professor Dumbledore has his reasons," Harry said, earning him a withering glance from Hermione, along with a roll of the eyes. Well, duh, could he not have said anything more obvious? Harry didn't notice Hermione's glances, and he continued, albeit on a slightly more reassuring path, "You're a brilliant teacher, Remus, the only proper Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've had, well, other than Snape, but he was brutal. It wasn't right with him, and you are better suited to the job than he ever was, than anyone is."

Lupin smiled tersely, and nodded. Harry and he were close, closer than Harry had been with Sirius, and so it wasn't unknown to see them talking about Lupin's furry problem. Hermione had never managed to get him to open up to her about it (he suspected her interest was a little too academic), and Ron had never bothered. Turning back towards Hermione, he squeezed her shoulder in a friendly way. "I'm glad you're okay, Hermione," he said. Producing a hunk of dark chocolate from his robes – he knew dark was her favorite kind – he offered it to her, and she took it eagerly. "I'll be going now. Take care, you three."

They nodded, said their farewells, and the _room_ relaxed when he left. The three friends had not noticed how tense they had been with Lupin in the room, all of them letting held breath sigh out when he left. Remus Lupin was always sad of late, having finally come to terms with his lycanthropy but not embracing it. With this latest incident, they could tell that their friend would be melancholy for a while yet, although Hermione had high hopes for Professor Snape's potion. Maybe that would cheer the werewolf up, but Harry was too concerned.

After a few moments, Ron said cheerfully, "At least he's not resigning. That's good, right?" Hermione and Harry just looked at him, trying to figure out where in the world Ron's brains ran off to this time. "What? I was just saying…"

"Obviously, he's feeling depressed because he can't live a normal life. He feels like he's worthless, because he thinks he's dangerous and shouldn't be allowed to have friends that care about him – and he is, but that isn't the point. He also misses Sirius still, and he feels betrayed by Pettigrew. He thinks that we should hate him, and he's worried about us actually hating him," Hermione explained, and then she sighed. "On top of that, he's stressed because this is his first term teaching, and there's already been reason for him to be sacked."

"Bloody hell, Hermione! You're a shrink!" Ron exclaimed, eying Hermione with awe. "How could you tell?" Harry shook his head, resting his forehead on the tips of his fingers.

"Oh, Ronald," Hermione said, exasperated. "Never you mind. Did you guys remember to grab my schedule from Professor McGonagall?" Harry handed her a very crumpled piece of parchment, hoping she didn't mind that it was abused. "Honestly, you two, this is no way to treat a schedule!" she commented half-heartedly, but got busy reading it.

"Monday, Wednesday, Friday:

_Advanced Potions (9-11) – Slytherin  
Advanced Transfiguration (11-12) – Hufflepuff  
Advanced Charms(1-2) – Slytherin  
Arithmancy (3-4) – Ravenclaw_

Tuesday and Thursday:

_Advanced Transfiguration (9-10:30) – Hufflepuff  
Advanced Charms (10:45-12) – Ravenclaw  
Advanced DADA (1-4) - Slytherin_

Sundays – wait, what? Sundays? I didn't know there were Sunday classes. Did you know there were Sunday classes? No? Then I wonder what this is about – oh! It says Sundays are apprenticeship days for those who earned all O's on their OWLs fifth year, so of course you didn't know. This is interesting – it's basically more rigorous than normal coursework, but in one subject only – whichever one I choose, I can drop off my normal schedule, if I want."

"What subject do you think?" Harry asked eagerly, thinking that Hermione would probably choose Transfiguration or Arithmancy, since those are the two classes she was her best in. He, personally, never understood Arithmancy, but he had seen Hermione's face their first year when she was the first to transfigure something successfully, so he would have put his money on that.

She appeared thoughtful, and then a smile broke out on her face – "You'll see, now, go. I love you two, but I want to finish this before Madame Pomfrey releases me." 'This' of course, was _Hogwarts:_ _A History_, but she wanted them gone for more than just that. She had a decision to make for her apprenticeship.

Watching them leave slightly confused, she got to work making a mental list of all the pros and cons for her three favorite subjects: Potions, Arithmancy, and Transfiguration. She would make her decision by lunchtime, with any sort of luck.

**So I wonder which apprenticeship Hermione will choose – what do you think? Remember, it might not be the obvious! Hm, and how will Dumbledore react to Lupin, and visa versa? Review, and you get cookies!**


End file.
